The Coffee Shop
by eponnia
Summary: Modern AU. On his weekly coffee runs to the Café Musain, the young law student starts to take notice of a girl who always sits alone and reads at the same table, always at the same time. He begins to make his stops more frequent in hopes of catching a glimpse of her while slowly working up the nerve to talk to her, unaware that she's already noticed and has been doing the same.
1. Chapter 1

The Coffee Shop

SUMMARY: Modern AU. On his weekly coffee runs to the Café Musain, the young law student starts to take notice of a girl who always sits alone and reads at the same table, always at the same time. He begins to make his stops more frequent in hopes of catching a glimpse of her while slowly working up the nerve to talk to her, unaware that she's already noticed and has been doing the same. [2012 film Enjonine. Credit goes to electrum-whip on Tumblr.]

Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Credit for the initial idea, summary, and the cover image go to electrum-whip on Tumblr, from whom I have permission to write this story, but the writing and story itself belongs to me.**

_**The Coffee Shop**_** is based on the 2012 film, set in modern day, with Aaron Tviet as Enjolras and Samantha Barks as Éponine. If you are wondering, Enjonine is a proposed ship name for Enjolras/Éponine. If you like it, please use it and spread the word. Maybe this will be the next Fiyeraba! **

* * *

_Late summer_

A twenty-two-year-old young man sat at a small table in a café, a black coffee in hand. A messenger bag packed with heavy law books hung from the back of his chair, the leather on the bag imprinted with the prestigious title of an elite law school. The young man in question was tall, with curly blond hair, attractive but serious features, and dark eyes.

As per custom, he had come to the Café Musian, a tasteful and relatively quiet coffee shop, late in the week to drink a coffee and reflect. As he began his last year at one of the most competitive law schools in the country, he rarely found time to simply contemplate the path his life had led thus far and the road he was currently traveling on.

Enjolras lifted his gaze to the door of the café as it opened, the small bell above the entrance tinkling lightly. A young woman about his age or perhaps a year younger walked through the door, a book in hand as she approached the counter.

Enjolras watched her as she crossed the room. She was pretty – not beautiful in a classical sense, but attractive with a tough exterior that allowed a softer undertone to shine through. Tall but not extremely so, she had long dark hair that fell in layered waves down her back, suntanned features, bright eyes, and a wide, pleasantly appealing face. She ordered an iced mocha and went to a table in the corner of the Café Musain. Opening the book and pulling out the page marker, she began to read.

Enjolras himself tore his gaze from the girl and focused on his drink. Why was he watching the girl? He was never one for relationships; that he left to his friends who seemed to focus more on dating rather than graduating. But why had she captured his attention? She was different from most of the girls he knew – quiet rather than talkative, bookish rather than gossip-obsessed. The women who attended any law school were more serious and focused than the average college student, it was true, but some seemingly brainless, chattering ones had slipped into their ranks.

But what was it about this girl that made her so different?

* * *

On Saturday morning at nearly exactly the same time Enjolras once again sat at a table in the Café Musain. This time, however, law books were not by his side; his friend Grantaire sat across from him. Enjolras watched as his dark-haired companion consumed yet another cup of straight black coffee. When a car's screeching tires were heard outside the café, Grantaire groaned, bringing a hand to his head.

"And this is why I don't drink," Enjolras said.

Grantaire lifted his head, fixing a suffering look on his friend. "Do you know what happened last night?" he asked.

Enjolras said nothing.

"Did I at lease enjoy myself?" Grantaire pleaded.

"You went to a friend's apartment," Enjolras began.

"I remember that."

"You got drunk, obviously."

"I remember that."

"You stood on the table."

"Don't remember that."

"You sang _Oom Pah Pah_, then _Call Me Maybe_, talked about Don Juan, and made a speech about the government should make beer fountains instead of water fountains. Eventually you passed out and Joly brought you home and left on your couch."

"I don't remember any of that," Grantaire said almost apologetically. At Enjolras' pointed look, however, he added quickly, "But I'm sure I didn't enjoy myself."

Enjolras sighed. "Do you want more coffee?" Grantaire nodded, mumbling a thank you. As Enjolras stood, the door of the café opened.

It was the girl.

He stood, watching her as she went to the counter and ordered an iced mocha, book in hand. The same as last time, he noted.

Enjolras shook himself. Why on earth was he paying so much attention to her? He approached the counter, and his gaze moved involuntarily to her form as she paid for her drink. Her dark hair hung in wavy layers down her back, and –

_Snap out of it_, he ordered himself. The girl took her drink and went to the same table she had sat at the last time. He tore his gaze away and ordered Grantaire's coffee while trying to think of anything but the girl.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: There is a difference between being attracted to someone and falling head over heels in love with them. Enjolras and Éponine aren't in love.**

**Yet.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Again, the idea and summary for this fic belong to electrum-whip, but the story belong to me. **

* * *

He was there again.

Éponine watched the young man with curly blond hair out of the corner of her eye as she approached the counter. He left the table he shared with a dark-haired man and came behind her in line.

There are certain people, she had noticed over the years, that had a presence about them, a charisma that drew attention. Especially in men, you could feel their body heat if you stood close; confidence radiated off them, and they all but commanded respect by merely letting their gaze rest on you.

This man was one of them.

She could feel his gaze on her as she ordered an ice mocha. But for some reason, Éponine knew that his eyes were not roving her body, guided by a primal urge.

He was just watching her.

Éponine paid for her drink and went to her usual table, opening her book. Over the edge of her cup, she watched the man order a straight black coffee. After paying for the drink, he returned to the table he had left and set the coffee in front of his friend. The dark-haired man thanked the blond, who sat down opposite him with a nod to acknowledge his companion's words.

Éponine had seen the blond before in the Café Musain. He often sat alone by the window with an black coffee and a leather messenger bag filled with books. Occasionally he would read a thick law textbook, but the majority of the time he had seemingly been content to gaze out the window in silence. Éponine gathered that he was a law student, likely attending the esteemed university a few blocks away. She guessed he was in his early twenties, about the same age as herself or perhaps a year older. He seemed focused and controlled, something she could not say about herself.

He then glanced over at her for a split second, and she dropped her gaze to her book, pretending to read but not really paying attention to the words on the page. As was often habit, Éponine let her mind wander.

The first direction her thoughts took was towards her friend Marius, which seemed to be a recurring theme ever since she had met him. She had developed feelings for him, but, as she had never dared to tell him, Marius had never once viewed her as anything more than a friend. She had begrudgingly helped him further his relationship with his now long-time girlfriend Cosette, all the while dreaming of a relationship with him that was not to be.

Her thoughts then moved to her current relationship with her boyfriend. Montparnasse was the opposite of Marius in every possible way. While Marius had honest, open features, Montparnasse was rugged and dark. The former was only twenty-one, a year older than herself; Montparnasse was almost ten years older than her. Where Marius was kind, Montparnasse was rough and demanding. The latter smoked and drank heavily, while former drank only on a very rare occasion and had never been seen to lift a cigarette to his lips. Marius had never raised a hand against anyone, while Montparnasse seemed to enjoy using his girlfriend as a punching bag. Éponine often wondered why she was still with Montparnasse after all he had done.

Yet she stayed.

Éponine then let herself fantasize for a moment, imagining what the law student was like. He was serious, yes, but he seemed kind and respectful. She let herself dream of what her life would look like if she had the nerve to leave Montparnasse. She would approach the blond and say something clever and smart, giving him a winning smile. They would talk, and she would impress him. They would part ways, and return to the café the next day, intrigued by each other. He would be able to look past her scars and hard exterior to see her the way she really was, and they would fall in love.

But Éponine knew all too well that life did not have a happy ever after tacked onto the end.

* * *

Enjolras and Grantaire looked up as the door of the Café Musain was flung open, the bell above the entrance ringing madly. Marius burst through the door, his gaze trained on the girl with the book and clearly seeing nothing else. Enjolras knew Marius well; they attended law school together. But Enjolras was growing distant from his friend as Marius became more enamored with his girlfriend and less focused on graduating. Still, Enjolras considered Marius a friend, albeit a distracted one.

The girl's face lit up the second Marius entered the café. A smile graced her features as he cross the room and sat across from her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, setting her book aside. Her eyes shone as Marius leaned forward.

"I need your advice," he said.

"Anything," she said breathlessly.

"I want your opinion on how I should propose to Cosette."

Enjolras watched as the girl stared at Marius. It seemed as if she had not really heard his words, but then realization began to creep across her features.

"What?" she choked out.

"I know it's a bit soon to be proposing, but…" Marius trailed off. "I don't want to make a mistake, you know?"

"Of course not," the girl said, letting her gaze drop to the table.

Marius reached out and took one of her hands in both of his; she gazed at her hand caught between his for a moment. He gave her a smile, then released her hand, leaning back in his chair. "I was thinking about taking her to the park, by the lake…"

As Marius talked, Enjolras watched as the girl seemed to close in on herself. Her shoulders tensed, she leaned forward slightly, and her gaze was trained on her hands resting on her lap. Marius explained his plan for the next ten minutes, during which the girl never once met his eyes.

"And that's all I had planned," Marius concluded. The girl did not look at him."Do you have any suggestions?" he asked.

She finally looked up, running a hand through her hair. "No, it sounds lovely," she said. "Forgive me, I'm a bit distracted," she added quietly. "Migraine."

Worry clouded Marius' features. "Do you think you'll be alright?"

"Actually," she said, "I'm not feeling too well. I think I'll… I'll go home."

Marius stood with her as she collected her belongings. "Do you want me to call Montparnasse for you?" he inquired.

"No!" she said desperately, loud enough for the entire café to hear her, an anxious look in her eyes. She forced a weak smile, lowering her voice. "No, I'll be fine."

As she walked to the door of the café, Marius followed her. "Do you want money for bus fare?" He reached into his pocket for his wallet.

She shook her head. "No, I don't want your money. I'll walk."

"If you're sure," he said reluctantly, and she smiled sadly at him, not replying. "Be safe," Marius said, resting a hand on her elbow for a moment. Letting go of her arm, he left.

Enjolras watched as the girl slowly went to the door, tossing her empty cup into the trash. Shifting her book in her hand, she exited the Café Musain.

* * *

Éponine walked numbly down the sidewalk, barely noticing the people that passed by. Tears filled her dark eyes, and she angrily brushed them away before they could fall.

Marius was now lost to her forever.

In reality, he was never hers to begin with. Before he had met Cosette, Éponine had hoped their friendship would develop into something more. But then that angelic beauty had arrived in Marius' life, shattering Éponine's dreams of receiving his love. Though even then she had been living with Montparnasse, she still held out in hopes that Marius would sweep her off her feet. But clearly he had no intention of doing so, and asked for her assistance in furthering his relationship with another woman. Éponine had thought Marius had broken her heart completely.

But his intentions to marry Cosette effectively shattered her heart into a thousand pieces.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: By the way, does anyone like Enjonine for a ship name for Enjolras/Éponine? **


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've had many reviewers tell me that they don't want the "relationship" to progress too quickly. I agree with all of you – it wouldn't be canon if they immediately fell in love – but it's got to go somewhere or you all will be bored to tears for twenty chapters. I hope that the pace I've set works for everyone. Keep in mind, this is in a modern setting, so the characters might react **_**slightly**_** differently than they would in the 1800s. But don't worry, I don't plan on going off on some random completely OOC tangent with Enjolras and Éponine. **

**In case anyone (Tumblr people, that is) noticed, there are two other E/E fics based off the same prompt I'm using, but our fics are vastly different. **_**To Love Another**_** by doyouhearthefandomssing and **_**Coffee For the Edge Of Evening**_** by TheForgetMeNot are defiantly worth reading, and I highly recommend them. **

* * *

They watched each other while striving to appear as if they were doing anything but observing the other.

During that particular week both Enjolras and Éponine found themselves in the Café Musain every day from Monday to Thursday. For Enjolras, this was an unusual occurrence – he normally stopped by the café once a week – but he found himself now frequenting the café four days straight to privately observe the girl with the book who was Marius' friend.

He knew he shouldn't be doing this. It was known throughout his circle of friends that he was not interested in romantic relationships, viewing them as distractions from his goals. Finishing his education and beginning his law career were at the top of his priorities, not bedding every girl on campus. Another thought that made him pause was that he was technically bordering on stalking her. True, he was not constantly following the girl, but he had been waiting for her at the café for the past four days. Enjolras was determined to discontinue his daily visits to the Café Musain and only stop by if necessary.

Éponine let her mind wander as she skimmed the open page before her. She told herself on a regular basis that she went to the café to be away from Montparnasse for an hour or so, but now her stops had more purpose whether she wanted to admit it or not.

She had taken to viewing the law student from her vantage point in the corner of the café. Telling herself that she indeed was watching him made her hesitate – what if someone was doing that to her? – but just observing him was better company than either Marius or Montparnasse. She could make up conversations and situations in her head that were far more pleasant than anything that occurred in her daily life, as she was normally subjected to Marius' poetic rambles about Cosette or Montparnasse's drunken rages. She deserved _some_ happiness, didn't she?

On the Friday of that week, Enjolras left class and found himself outside the Café Musain once more. He told himself that all he was doing was making a coffee run – nothing more, nothing less. If the girl wasn't there, he wouldn't be bothered by her absences. If she was… Well, he would take his coffee and go.

As he stood in line, waiting to order, he heard the bell above the door ring lightly, her voice carrying across the café.

Out of the corner of his eye – not that he looked – he saw she was talking into a phone. She came directly behind him in line, and he could hear her carrying on a conversation. "…I know I said I was going to end things with Montparnasse, but…" She trailed off, listening to the other line. "Musichetta, it's not that easy. I have nowhere to go if I leave him." A pause. "No, I couldn't impose. I stay at your place enough as it is…"

"Sir? Are you ready to order?" said the man behind the counter.

Enjolras automatically stepped forward, mentally shaking himself. "Forgive me. One straight black coffee, please…"

* * *

He sat down at a table, coffee in hand and telling himself that he merely was taking a moment's respite to think. But his thoughts were definitely not taking their usual route.

Enjolras saw the girl leaving the counter. She was intent on her phone conversation, holding her coffee loosely in one hand. As she passed a table, a seated man abruptly stood, pushing back his chair and clearly not seeing her behind him. The chair slammed forcefully into her side, and she was caught off balance, her phone nearly falling from her grasp. The contents of her beverage sloshed out the cup and onto the front of her clothes.

She cried out in shock, stumbling slightly but regaining her balance. The man who had caused the incident glanced at her, muttering an insincere apology, and continued on his way.

Enjolras stood, anger and indignation beginning to simmer in his chest. Couldn't the man have even tried to help the girl? Enjolras grabbed a napkin from his table and approached the girl. "Are you alright?"

She looked up at him. "I'm… um, fine," she said, suddenly busying herself with trying to ring out her skirt.

"Here," he said, holding out the napkin. "I know, it's not much. I'll get some paper towels."

After returning from the restroom bearing a handful of paper towels, Enjolras was granted a close look at the girl. She seemed to be two years younger than himself, with dark layered hair that fell past her shoulders and expressive deep brown eyes.

As he handed her a paper towel, he tried to reason with himself. Why was he so focused on this girl? She was clearly in love with Marius; he had heard during her phone call what he assumed she was in a relationship with someone called Montparnasse. She obviously was taken, and he had not right to feel so… intrigued by her.

"Why are you doing this for me?"

His eyes met hers as she spoke. She had a guarded, almost wary look about her, her hand unconsciously clenching a paper towel into a crumpled ball.

He gave her a careful smile. "I'm helping you. It's the gentlemanly thing to do, as no one else offered to lend a hand."

"Thanks," she said with a half smile.

"You are more than welcome," he replied, and her eyes lowered for a moment at his words.

"Well, thanks for your help, but I should probably get going," she said, slightly embarrassed.

"In that case, have a good day," he said with a smile.

"To you as well," she replied, returning the smile.

And thus ended their first of many meetings, though neither knew they would contact the other again.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope that didn't move too fast for everyone. **


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_**A Tale of Two Cities**_** by Charles Dickens, according to Wikipedia, "depicts the plight of the French peasantry demoralized by the French aristocracy in the years leading up to the revolution…" Sound familiar? **

**Montparnasse is coming during this chapter. Marc Pickering (Montparnasse in the film) sadly had about two seconds of screen time, so I picture Ian Fletcher instead. Ian has never played Montparnasse, but is currently touring as Bill opposite Samantha Barks as Nancy in the UK tour of **_**Oliver!**_** My Montparnasse might come across as more of a Bill, but that's how I picture him. **

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews!**

* * *

"What are you reading?"

Éponine looked up to find the law student who had assisted her the day before standing by her table, hands in his pockets.

"_A Tale of Two Cities_ by Charles Dickens," she replied, her eyes meeting his.

"That's about French revolution, isn't it?" he said.

"Among other things," she said with a slight smile. "Would you like to have a seat?" Éponine said, gesturing to the empty chair opposite herself.

"Of course," he replied. As he sat, he extended a hand. "I don't believe we've officially met. I'm Enjolras."

"Éponine," she replied, shaking his hand, and a half smile grew across her features.

"A pleasure to meet you, Éponine."

"To you as well." Her smile grew slightly. "You're a law student, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm attending the university a few blocks from here," he said. "How did you know?"

"I've seen you reading law books occasionally," she said, heat climbing up her neck. "And your messenger bag said the name of the university…" she trailed off, embarrassed. _Now you sound like a stalker. Great first impression, 'Ponine._

She was grateful to see that Enjolras did not appear alarmed by her words. His gaze swept the table for a moment. "No coffee today?" he asked. Immediately she saw in his eyes that he was berating himself. _So I'm not the only one who feels awkward_, she thought.

She smiled to ease his discomfort. "Not today. I'm trying not to repeat yesterday's episode."

"Do you want something? I'll pay."

She paused for a moment, not wanting charity. _He's only trying to be nice, 'Ponine_, she told herself. "Sure," she said with a smile. "I'll take green tea, and avoid coffee for now. Thank you, Enjolras."

"Don't mention it," he said with a smile as he stood.

Éponine watched as Enjolras went to the counter. She might have been living with Montparnasse and be still half in love with Marius, but she wasn't blind. _Admit it, 'Ponine_, said a voice in the back of her head. _You find him attractive._

_Well, who wouldn't?_ she argued. _He's respectful, looks rich, kind, attentive…_

And everything she could not have.

* * *

Enjolras returned to the table, placing the green tea before Éponine. "Here you are," he said, sitting down across from her.

"Thank you, Enjolras," she said sincerely, looking him straight in the eye.

"You're welcome."

"I don't receive gifts very often, so this means a lot," she said quietly, her gaze dropping to the table.

Enjolras was shocked, though he hid his surprise. What kind of life had she led that made a free cup of tea mean so much? "Then I am honored to have given you a gift."

"So, where are you from?" Éponine said, blushing slightly at his words.

"I'm from the capitol. North side," he said, deciding to leave the previous topic alone. "What about you?"

Her gaze flitted to the window, and she suddenly tensed, staring out the window. "What's wrong?" Enjolras said, concerned.

"I have to go," she said, standing and grabbing her book. "It was very nice meeting you." She had yet to move her gaze from the window.

Enjolras turned to see a man exiting a rather beat-up truck on the street outside the Café Musain. The man was tall, with rugged features darkened by anger and an intimidating presence. Éponine went to the door, squaring her shoulders, and attempted to intercept the man, but he did not even spare her a glance, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her with him as he entered and crossed the café. "Montparnasse," she said in a low voice, but he ignored her as he approached Enjolras.

"What were you doing with my girl?" snarled the man Enjolras assumed with Montparnasse.

The law student met the man's murderous gaze evenly. "I was having a discussion with her," he said calmly, determined to keep conflict from arising. "Nothing more."

This only seemed to infuriate Montparnasse more, and he turned his anger on Éponine. "First that weak redhead, not him? Do you hook up with him every time you come here? Decided to get a rendezvous in every day?"

Éponine drew herself up to her full height, glaring at Montparnasse. "I'm not _doing_ anything with him, 'Parnasse. We just met."

"You wouldn't happen to be lying, would you?" he said in a low voice with a dangerous edge. "You've lied to me before." As Montparnasse spoke, his grip visibly tightened on Éponine's arm. She winced slightly, trying to edge away.

"I'm not lying, 'Parnasse," she said, biting her lip in pain as Montparnasse's fingers tightened on her arm.

"Let go of her arm."

Montparnasse and Éponine looked at Enjolras, who was currently trying to keep himself from hauling Montparnasse away from Éponine. "I didn't ask for your opinion," Montparnasse said scathingly.

"I'm not giving you my _opinion_. I am telling you to _let go of her arm_."

Montparnasse and Enjolras stared at each other, and tension filled the air between them. Montparnasse's eyes darted briefly about the café; seeing that some people nearby were staring, he abruptly released Éponine's arm.

"We're leaving," he ordered Éponine. "You're not staying where righteous rich boys can get at you." Giving Enjolras a final murderous look, he stormed out of the café.

As Éponine followed him out the door, Enjolras took a step forward. "Éponine."

She turned quickly, and their eyes met. He took two long strides to her side, gazing at her intently. "Do you need anything? Do you want me to call someone?"

She gave him a cryptic smile he could not read. "I'll be… fine. It's better if I go with him now instead of waiting." Her eyes told Enjolras she spoke from experience.

"Are you sure?" he said, concerned, presenting his assistance one more time.

She nodded and turned, not meeting his eyes as her fingertips brushed the mark on her arm. She let the café and approached Montparnasse's truck where her boyfriend was waiting. Enjolras watched as she opened the door and slid into the vehicle, keeping her head down. Montparnasse started the truck and pulled away.

Éponine did not look back.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for all your lovely reviews! Sorry I took so long to get this chapter up. I looked into what classes a traditional pre-law major would take, and Political Science is one of the them. **

**By the way, anyone else basically addicted to the Les Mis AU photosets on Tumblr? Or is it just me? **

* * *

Éponine did not come to the café for the next two days.

If the situation had been different, Enjolras wouldn't have been so apprehensive; he forced himself to admit that he did indeed think about Éponine more often than he would like to acknowledge. After seeing Montparnasse's rough actions with his girlfriend, Enjolras felt he had a right to be concerned for her well-being. It was not hard to imagine how Montparnasse could be treating her.

On Monday morning Enjolras arrived early to the Political Science lecture hall, his first class of the day. He hung his messenger bag over the back of a chair, laying Friday's notes on the desk before him. Enjolras found himself unable to concentrate as he reviewed his notes, his thoughts occupied by a certain dark-haired young woman. He told himself he couldn't continue in this pattern – he hardly knew Éponine – but he knew she had a valid reason to be distracted. What if Montparnasse had seriously harmed Éponine? Or–

Enjolras saw a flash of reddish-brown hair out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see Marius sitting down in the empty seat beside him. "Morning, Enjolras," Marius said.

"Good morning," Enjolras replied. "Marius, you are friends with Éponine, correct?"

"Yes. Do you know her?"

"I met her at the Café Musain last week. How well do you know her?"

Marius shrugged. "Fairly well. We used to be neighbors when I first moved out of my grandfather's place. Why do you ask?"

"I talked to her yesterday at the café," Enjolras began. "Then her boyfriend Montparnasse showed up–"

"And you still walked away in one piece?" Marius interrupted, surprise in his voice.

"What do you mean?"

"Montparnasse has a reputation of rearranging the face of anyone who has any contact of any kind with Éponine. I don't know why she's still with him."

"That's what I wanted to discuss with you," Enjolras said seriously. "The situation Éponine's in doesn't look good. Her boyfriend was so angry he looked as if he wanted to break her arm."

"I wouldn't put that past him," Marius said in a low voice.

"Has anyone done anything?"

"I don't think she can leave him. Either he won't let her go, or she believes she has to stay with him for whatever reason. They fought constantly when I lived in the apartment next door to them."

"Did it ever become violent?"

"I believe Éponine stayed away at a friend's when things got bad with Montparnasse. Come to think of it," Marius said, "she might be friends with Musichetta, Joly's girlfriend."

Enjolras began to speak, but the professor began class, and the conversation ended.

* * *

On Wednesday, Enjolras returned to the Café Musain. The afternoon, caught in the end of late summer, was warm and humid. As he sat at a table in the corner, attempting to focus on his Political Science textbook, he heard the door of the café open.

Éponine slipped into the café. Despite the temperature, she wore a thin jacket zipped almost to he chin, dark sunglasses concealing her eyes. Her hair fell in her face, her hands deep in her pockets, and she limped slightly, favoring her left knee.

Enjolras restrained herself from standing and approaching her as she crossed the café. He caught her eye – though it was difficult to tell through her sunglasses – and she came up to him.

"Éponine," he began, but she ducked her head and slid into a chair at his table. He leaned forward, laying his textbook aside. "How are you?" He wished the question had been less nonchalant, but he felt it would be forward to ask what Montparnasse did to her outright.

"Fine," she replied quietly. Gone was the confident Éponine with bright eyes and a willing smile; in her place was a battered young woman unwilling to meet his gaze.

"Éponine," he said, but stopped himself once more from asking questioning about what had transpired in the days she had been absent from the café. "Why are you wearing a jacket?"

"I was cold," Éponine said.

"It's eighty degrees outside."

She did not reply.

He couldn't ignore the elephant in the room much longer, and sighed, frustrated with himself for not getting to the point. "Did Montparnasse harm you?" he asked in a low voice.

Her head snapped up, and he assumed she was meeting his gaze through the sunglasses. "Why would you say that?" she said, a clearly forced nonchalant tone in her voice.

"I'm not blind," Enjolras said, keeping his tone even but becoming frustrated by her constant evasion of the clear topic at hand.

Éponine suddenly became defensive. "Fine," she all but snapped. "You really want to see?"  
She tore her sunglasses from her face, unzipping her jacket and pushing it from her shoulders, extracting her arms from the garment. Enjolras, shocked, fought to keep his astonishment from his features.

Her right eye was bruised and half-swollen shut, a small cut above her eye. Her black tank top revealed bruises littering her arms as well as her chest and some on her neck. A hand-shaped mark was on her arm, and the yellowing bruise from the week before was visible.

"Not what you're used to seeing in your safe rich world, right?"

"I'm not judging you, Éponine–"

"Do you think I'm some kind of damsel in distress, then? I can take care of myself, thank you very much."

"Éponine–"

She stood, angry for a reason Enjolras could not fathom. "I don't know why I even came here." Throwing her jacket on and replacing her sunglasses, she turned. "You can keep your pity. I don't want it."

"Éponine–"

"_Goodbye_, Enjolras."

She strode out of the café, leaving Enjolras alone.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know, it's been a while since I updated, but don't worry, Éponine doesn't stay mad at Enjolras forever. Here's more Enjolras and Éponine interaction, some Marius/Cosette – which I like to call Mosette – and a bit of drunk!Grantaire for you; there's more of the latter in the next chapter. By the way, R is straight in this fic. Sorry to all you E/R shippers. **

"Try not to get completely drunk, Grantaire. It's Marius' _engagement_ party; we're not going stag."

Grantaire glanced at Enjolras from the passenger seat of the silver Volvo but said nothing. Enjolras sighed as he turned his car onto a street lined with near-mansions. "I don't mean to be hard on you–"

"But I have a reputation of getting incredibly drunk," Grantaire said. "I know. I don't deserve a friend like you." He said the last sentence so quietly Enjolras almost missed his words.

"That's what friends are for," Enjolras said as he parked on the street outside Marius' grandfather's imposing residence. "Let's go."

As soon as they stepped through the front door, it was clear no expense had been spared. The foyer alone was filled with loud music, expensive decorations, elaborate food, costly drinks and people – some Enjolras knew, others were complete strangers to him. Out of the crowd appeared Marius holding the hand of a beautiful young woman with sunny hair.

"You came!" Marius said.

"Did you think we would miss a party like this?" Grantaire replied, causing Marius and the blonde girl to laugh while Enjolras merely gave an amused smile.

"I don't believe you've met my fiancé," Marius said. "Enjolras, Grantaire, this is Cosette. My dear," he said, turning to the girl, "this is Enjolras, the pillar of my circle of friends, and Grantaire–"

"The voice of sarcasm," Grantaire interjected. "We have to balance each other out somehow." Cosette smiled at his words.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you," Enjolras said. "Marius has told us a great deal about you."

"The good things, I hope," Cosette said with a laugh.

"Nothing but the best," Grantaire said before Enjolras could reply. "Especially about–"

"How the two of you met," Enjolras interrupted, giving Grantaire a warning glare.

"Oh, um, yes," Grantaire said, scrambling to recover. "I'm going to find something to drink. It was very nice meeting you." Grantaire moved quickly through the crowd towards the bar.

"You'll have to excuse him," Enjolras said to Cosette as the trio watched Grantaire leave. "I would say he's not normally like this, but then I wouldn't be telling the truth."

Cosette laughed. "I find him amusing."

Marius glanced at the door as it opened, and his smile grew. "It's Éponine and Musichetta!"

Enjolras immediately looked to the door. Éponine stood in the doorway with an admittedly attractive blonde woman; he vaguely recognized the blonde as Joly's girlfriend. Éponine looked extremely hesitant to enter the room, and, knowing what he did about Éponine and Marius' friendship, Enjolras understood why Musichetta had to all but pull her friend into the foyer. Éponine wore a long-sleeved black dress that fell to her knees, the fabric tight enough to distinctly outline her slender frame but not snug enough to leave absolutely nothing to the imagination – not that Enjolras would ever willingly let his mind wander in _that_ direction. Éponine turned and saw Marius and Cosette; paling visibly, she turned and walked in the opposite direction, ignoring Marius as he called her name.

"We'll catch her later, darling," Cosette said to Marius. "I think your grandfather wants to speak to me. I'll be back." She kissed Marius on the cheek and turned to Enjolras with a smile. "It was very nice meeting you."

"The same to you," Enjolras replied. Cosette moved through the crowd, leaving Marius and Enjolras together.

"Éponine helped me meet Cosette," Marius said, and Enjolras turned in surprise to his friend, raising an eyebrow.

"Éponine?"

"Yes. If not for 'Ponine, I wouldn't be engaged to Cosette…" Enjolras tuned out Marius as the other man continued to describe Éponine's involvement in bringing himself and his fiancé together.

Enjolras guessed that Éponine wanted more than friendship from Marius, but he did not tell his friend this information. "I should go find Grantaire and make sure he hasn't done anything akin to breaking a hundred-year-old crystal vase worth more than my car."

"I should be getting back to Cosette. If you see Éponine tell her to find Cosette or I, alright?" Marius left before Enjolras could reply, and the latter was privately grateful he had not been required to agree with his friend's request.

Because he did not intend to tell Éponine any of Marius' words.

* * *

Enjolras searched for Éponine – discreetly, of course – but was not surprised when he didn't find her. Still, he wanted to ensure that she was sufficiently recovering, and, as just as importantly, to repair his almost-friendship with her and discover the reason for her resentment towards him.

An hour later he was still scanning the room for a glimpse of Éponine. He was about to consider the possibility that she might have left the gathering early when he saw her slip from the main party area into an adjacent empty side room. Leaving Grantaire to down another glass of champagne, Enjolras crossed the room, avoiding the dance floor, and went to the doorway that Éponine had disappeared through, pausing a moment before entering the room.

Éponine stood by a large window in the empty room, looking out into the dark night as a lamp cast shadows on her form and softened her features. She tugged absentmindedly on the sleeves of her dress, and Enjolras privately noted that she had admittedly covered up the marks on her face, neck and chest well. Her thick, wavy dark hair concealed even more when left loose around her shoulders.

"I thought you had left early."

She turned at his words and relaxed slightly as he approached. "I considered it," she said. He leaned against the glass on the opposite side of the window from Éponine, crossing his arms casually across his chest.

"Why did you come?" He understood it was an admittedly forthright question but they both knew it would come up eventually.

"Marius invited me," she said, eyes lowered as she unnecessarily smoothed out her skirt. Éponine let out a bitter and mirthless laugh. "How could I refuse?"

Enjolras did not reply to her statement.

She shifted, looking up at him and tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "So why are you in here," she said, gesturing to the empty side room they stood in, "instead of being back there?" She pointed to the busy and packed room he had just left.

"I wished to speak with someone sober enough to carry on a decent conversation."

Éponine smiled. "I can't fault you there."

They fell into a comfortable silence, which then led Enjolras to wonder why exactly he felt at ease around her. Were they friends? Not quite, though they were more than acquaintances. Then Éponine interrupted his thoughts.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior the last time we saw each other at the Musain," she said, looking down at her hands.

"I never judged you, Éponine. None of that was your fault."

She looked up. "You don't know the full story, Enjolras."

"Abuse is never the fault of the victim." Though he believed wholeheartedly in his words, he wished he had rephrased the statement as a defensive look grew in Éponine's eyes. "I don't view you as weak or helpless because of the situation–"

"You pity me, then."

Had she always been this stubborn? "I want to offer my help, if you choose to take it. If you ever need anything…"

She opened her mouth to reply, but changed her mind and gave him a forced smile. "Thank you."

Enjolras glanced at his watch, then put his hands in his pockets. "Well, it's getting late, and I should see if Grantaire has passed out yet."

"Grantaire?"

"Oh, I forgot, you haven't met him yet. I'll introduce you to him some other time, as I'm sure he's too inebriated to meet anyone at the moment."

"I understand." There was a hint of a smile in her words.

"Are you going to the Café Musain during this week?"

"I'll see if Mont- if I can make it."

Enjolras looked at her intently, and she ducked her head. "Is Montparnasse prohibiting you from going to the café?" She did not reply, telling Enjolras the answer was in the affirmative. "Éponine–"

"He won't let me go because he thinks I'm cheating on him with you," Éponine said bluntly, locking eyes with him.

Enjolras could not comprehend how one man could be so consumed by jealousy and distrust. "He shouldn't be dictating where or not you go somewhere–"

"But he does. There's nothing I can do about it," Éponine said. What concerned Enjolras was that she sounded defeated, almost accepting of her situation as if there were no other options available for her.

Enjolras ran a hand through his hair. "May I at least drive you home, if you won't accept any other assistance?"

"I rode with Musichetta. And I couldn't impose–"

"You wouldn't be imposing. I trust Musichetta, but I want to make sure you arrive home safely."

"Enjolras–"

"_I_ will feel more at ease if I do this for you. Humor me." He crossed his arms once more across his chest and locked his gaze with hers. He could be as stubborn as she was.

She sighed. "Fine," Éponine said. "But I'm warning you, I don't live in a good neighborhood."

"All the more reason for me to escort you safely home," Enjolras said seriously.

"Chivalrous, aren't we?"

"It's the only way I know."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for all the reviews. Sorry for the wait, but here's a very, very long chapter to make up for it. Musichetta makes an appearance in this scene, along with the Patron-Minette and the promised drunk!Grantaire. **

**I have been part of the Les Mis fandom for about three years now, and have written a few pieces that involved Enjolras. Most fics were set in 1832, but I'm finding that I quite enjoy writing him in a modern setting. I believe that in the 1800s, Enjolras' mantra is "revolution, Patria, and France, and I have no time for women." That basically sums him up if you're thinking Brick!Enjolras, but in the musical and/or film I believe he would be slightly more open to relationships, though he never gives up "Patria is my mistress." (Of course, Enjolras/Éponine is the fandom making something work that literally never existed in the first place). **

**But the interesting thing about a modern Enjolras is that I believe he would be a **_**bit**_** more open to relationships than he would in the 1800s. No, I don't think he would sleep around constantly – no matter what the setting, that would be too far for Enjolras – but I don't believe he would be **_**completely**_** adverse to romance. This is just my opinion. If you don't agree, please don't flame me. **

**This chapter is takes up seven pages on Word and 2,833 words long. Enjoy! **

* * *

Éponine followed Enjolras into the main party room filled with shadowed forms that never ceased movement, loud music, and the smell of alcohol and perfume. Her heart sank as she saw Marius and Cosette dancing, their bodies a breath apart, but she pushed aside the feeling as she approached Musichetta.

"'Chetta," she said, trying to heard over the music, "I need to talk to you."

Musichetta nodded and stepped from Joly's embrace, promising her boyfriend that she would return in a moment. The two women went to the edge of the dance floor. "Where have you been?" the blonde asked.

"I had a headache," Éponine said.

"Caused by Marius?" Musichetta said in a low voice.

Éponine nodded in response. "I don't need a ride, by the way."

"How are you going to get home? Is 'Parnasse picking you up?"

"A friend offered to take me," Éponine replied. _If I can call Enjolras a friend_, she thought.

"Éponine!"

Musichetta and Éponine turned as Enjolras approached, guiding a clearly intoxicated man with curly black hair by the arm to keep him stable. "Forgive me for interrupting," Enjolras said, "but I would like to get him home before he breaks anything else."

"Anything else?" Éponine repeated with a raised eyebrow.

"He knocked over a one-hundred-year-old vase," Enjolras replied in a frustrated tone. "And a lamp."

"'Jolras," the drunk man slurred, "lend me some money to pay Marius?"

"_You're_ paying for what you did," Enjolras said, an edge of annoyance in his voice that he was clearly trying to fight. "And don't call me 'Jolras."

"Thanks, 'Jolras."

"Introduce me to your… _friend_, Éponine," Musichetta said with a smile. Éponine glared at her, but the other woman gave her a much too innocent smile.

"Musichetta," Éponine said, "this is Enjolras, and…"

"Grantaire," Enjolras supplied.

"Right. Enjolras, this is Musichetta." Éponine glanced at the blonde woman. "Happy?"

"Are you dating Joly, by any chance?" Enjolras asked Musichetta.

"I am. I didn't know you were friends with him."

"I've known him for a couple years."

"Well, now that you know each other," Éponine said, slightly irritated, "Enjolras, may we go?"

"Of course," Enjolras said politely. "Grantaire, stop ogling every woman within a ten foot radius."

"But, 'Jolras, she's a god." A pause. "Ess."

"_Grantaire_. I know you're drunk, but _try_ to have some self-control for once," Enjolras said as he all but dragged Grantaire to the door; Éponine hung back for a moment.

"_He's_ driving you home?" Musichetta said with a grin.

"'Chetta," Éponine groaned. "Remember Joly. You're dating _Joly_."

"Yes, but I'm not blind. How did you manage to get him?"

"I didn't _get_ him. We met at the Café Musain a few weeks ago. We're just friends."

"I completely believe you," Musichetta said sarcastically.

"'Chetta..." Éponine said in a warning tone.

"Sorry. Have fun!" the blonde woman said with a smile. Éponine scowled at her, but Musichetta merely gave her an innocent look. "I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"As always."

"Take opportunity when it comes knocking. You deserve it. Bye!"

"_Goodbye_, 'Chetta."

* * *

Éponine found Enjolras and Grantaire waiting outside on the steps of Marius' grandfather's home. "Ready?" Enjolras asked.

"Yes."

"Let's go, then."

Éponine followed the two men to a sleek silver Volvo, and Éponine hesitated before stepping off the curb to the car; the vehicle was worth more than her apartment. "You can take shotgun," Enjolras said. "Give me a moment to get Grantaire in."

"Sure." He managed to get the drunk into the backseat without too much trouble, and stepped back while running a hand through his hair. As Éponine extended a hand to open the car door, Enjolras reached out and opened it for her. "Thanks," she said, slightly embarrassed. Few men opened doors for her – least of all Montparnasse.

"You are welcome." He walked around the car as Éponine settled into the passenger side, and he slid into the driver's seat, starting the quiet engine. As he looked over his shoulder to back up the vehicle, he said, "I'm going to drop Grantaire off first. Does that work with you?"

"'Course," she said, a bit surprised. It was rare that anyone, let alone a man, asked her opinion.

The drive to Grantaire's place was relatively quiet, the silence occasionally broken by the drunk's slurred and completely nonsensical words. After driving for ten minutes, Enjolras parked in an apartment complex and shut of the engine of his car. "I will warn you," he said as he exited the car, "it might be a stretch of time before I get Grantaire to his apartment, as you can tell by his high level of intoxication." Éponine smiled.

"I understand."

Enjolras had to all but pull Grantaire out of the backseat. Putting the drunk's left arm over his own shoulders, Enjolras began to make his way to the stairs. "Why you live on the third floor, I have no idea," he said rhetorically to Grantaire, who, as to be expected, did not respond.

Éponine felt a pang of pity for Enjolras, though she was sure he didn't want it. As the golden-haired man began to ascend the steps with his heavy burden, Éponine left the Volvo and slipped to Grantaire's opposite side, putting her arm around the drunk's waist to help shoulder his weight.

Enjolras paused in his ascent. "Éponine, you don't have to–"

"I'm going to," she said stubbornly, putting Grantaire's free arm over her shoulders. She tried not to notice the feeling of Enjolras' arm against hers.

The trek up the stairs was not easy; though Grantaire was not exceedingly large, he had wiry muscle that contributed to his weight. Éponine noticed that Enjolras bore the brunt of Grantaire's weight to give her some relief, but she privately decided it was an accomplishment in itself that he even left her help at all. They finally made it to the third floor, and Éponine drew in a shallow breath, cursing herself for being so out of shape. Of course, being in a dress and heels didn't help matters.

"His apartment is at the end," Enjolras said, and Éponine could not help grimacing. "Let's take two," Enjolras said, looking at her. He wasn't even breathing hard; she guessed that Enjolras could probably keep going. _And run a marathon after he drops off Grantaire_, she thought somewhat enviously. But she had to admit to herself that she did need a breather.

"Fine," she said, begrudgingly offering her consent. They were both quiet for a moment, and Grantaire began to breathe slowly and heavily. Éponine and Enjolras looked at him in surprise.

"How on earth can he fall asleep standing up?" Enjolras wondered incredulously. Grantaire, still being held up by Enjolras, let his head fall on the other man's shoulder. Enjolras, with a long-suffering look, moved Grantaire's head off his shoulder.

"The things we do for friends," Éponine said with a smile.

Enjolras laughed.

Éponine watched him, realizing she had never truly seen him smile, never mind laugh. He had always been so serious and focused that she once wondered if he knew how to enjoy himself. "As much as I want to leave him right here like he deserves," Enjolras said, "we should probably get him to his apartment." Éponine, smiling, returned to Grantaire's side and took some of the drunk's weight. Enjolras lightly slapped Grantaire's face. "Wake up, R." The drunk's eyelids fluttered, and he mumbled a nonsensical word. "Good enough," Enjolras said.

They practically dragged Grantaire to the last door in the row of apartments. Enjolras pulled a key from his pocket and held it out to Éponine. "Would you mind…?"

She nodded and took the key. "It seems like you do this often," Éponine said as she unlocked and pushed open the door. "Bring Grantaire home drunk after a party, I mean," she added as she entered the room, turning on the lights.

"More often than I should," Enjolras said as he half-dragged a nearly asleep Grantaire into the room, managing to get the dark-haired man to the couch before he fell over. Once the drunk had collapsed on the couch, Enjolras went to a hallway closet, and, after digging out a blanket, tossed it at Grantaire and placed a bottle of Aspirin and a glass of water on the coffee table.

"You have quite the system," Éponine said, amused.

"He won't be able to function in the morning, so I try to lend him a hand."

"Another one of the things we do for friends, right?" Éponine said with a grin, echoing her earlier statement.

A brief smile flitted across Enjolras' features, so quick Éponine almost missed it. He crossed the room and opened the door, turning to her. "Shall we go?"

Éponine nodded and exited the apartment, stepping into the cold night air; Enjolras turned off the lights once she was outside, locking the door behind them.

* * *

The drive to Éponine's apartment was more awkward than the one of Grantaire's place. She grew more self-conscious by the minute as she directed Enjolras to one of the most run-down sections of the city.

"Now that I think about it," Éponine said, heat climbing up her neck, "it would be better if your car wasn't so… nice."

"What do you mean?" Enjolras asked.

Éponine looked down at her hands folded in her lap. "Because this isn't the best part of town."

"Don't worry–"

"I'm not worried for _me_," she said, feeling almost defensive. "I warned you I don't live in a good neighborhood. There's a pretty high chance you could get mugged." She purposely looked out the window, refusing to meet his eyes. "You look like you have money on you. People will put two and two together. That's all I'm saying." She sat up straighter in her seat. "Park here."

As they exited the car, Enjolras looked up at the apartment building. "I don't see anything wrong with this–"

"I don't live here," Éponine almost snapped, and took a deep breath. "It's better if you park here, because your car won't get broken into on this street. We're walking the next two blocks."

"Éponine–"

She turned and started walking.

"Éponine!" She looked back at him as he put a hand lightly on her arm. "I don't judge you just because you live a certain neighborhood–" he began, but she cut him off.

"Don't try to think–" Éponine began, but stopped herself. Enjolras would be a better defense than pepper spray. "It's getting late. Shouldn't we get going?"

He stepped back. "Of course."

* * *

They entered the depths of the neighborhood, seemingly cut off from the rest of the city. Éponine let no emotion cross her features, but she was both embarrassed and grateful that Enjolras was with her; she was ensured safe passage with him beside her. She did not comment as he stepped closer to her, his shoulder occasionally brushing hers as they walked.

Though Éponine knew Enjolras would never recognize the boundary, she immediately tensed as they crossed over into gang territory. This area was controlled by the Patron-Minette, the notorious group her father led. If she stayed close to Enjolras she could keep the gang from mugging and possibly causing him physical harm, while Enjolras' presence would hopefully keep her from being targeted by anyone looking for nighttime pleasure up her skirt. Éponine prayed she was right on both accounts. Just as they reached the apartment that Éponine shared with Montparnasse, she heard a voice that made her blood run cold.

"Hey, 'Ponine! Who's your friend?"

"Let me handle it, Enjolras," she said in a low voice, turning and putting a hand on his arm for a brief moment. Stepping forward, she saw Brujon, Claquesous, and Babet emerge from the shadows. "It's none of your business," she said in a strong tone.

"I'm sure 'Parnasse's not going to be appreciate you bringing him home," Babet said with a sinister, thin-lipped smile.

"I didn't bring him home. He just walked with me." Éponine refused to step back, keeping her spine ramrod straight, as the three men moved in closer to her.

"Sure," Brujon said. "That's about as likely as you still being a virgin, you slut."

Éponine immediately felt Enjolras' presence behind her, and she prayed he would not speak. "I need a favor," she said hurriedly.

"What do we get in return?" Claquesous asked suggestively.

"We'll decide that later," she said quickly. "All I need is for the three of you to leave him alone when he leaves. Don't follow him, don't mug him, and don't hurt him."

"So if we leave your friend alone, what do we get in return?" Brujon asked roughly.

"It's called a _favor_, Brujon. You do know what that means, don't you?" She knew she was treading on thin ice but did not want to resort to something low. She had _some_ pride, after all.

"Ah, but that doesn't work for us, _sweetheart_," Brujon said, making the term of endearment sound like the worst insult. "If we do this for you, there's got to be some payment."

"I said, _we'll decide that later_," Éponine said, knowing exactly what they wanted. "Just let him go!"

"How 'bout you pay each of us a _visit_ tonight?" Babet said with a leer, and Éponine's heart leapt in her throat. "'Parnasse will get over it, don't worry, and we'll let your friend go. Show up in some lacy number and we'll have some fun. Sound like a deal?"

"Absolutely not."

Enjolras stepped in front of Éponine, pushing her behind him with a gentle yet firm hand; Babet, Claquesous, and Brujon were forced to step back as Enjolras continued. "I can give you money if you so desire, but do _not_ touch her." Éponine inwardly groaned – _don't let them know you have money!_ – but did not dare speak as Enjolras went on. "Do what you want to me. Do. _Not_. Touch. Her."

Éponine, looking over Enjolras' shoulder, could not see his face, but this was the very first time that Claquesous, Brujon, and Babet had ever looked at all intimidated. It was only a flicker, but it was there. She would only imagine the terrible fury that resided on Enjolras' features, and she prayed it would never be directed towards her.

No one spoke for a long moment. Brujon lifted a cigarette to his lips. "She ain't worth it to waste time arguing with righteous boys."

"You got any crack?" Claquesous asked.

"I've got some at my place," Babet said.

The three men disappeared into the darkness.

"Just go, Enjolras."

He turned to her. "Do you want to spend the night at my place?" he asked, concern in his voice. "Wait, I didn't mean– I would never–"

"It's fine. Just go before they get back."

"Éponine–"

"They'll be back. Trust me. You'll probably get out if you leave now."

"Éponine. Listen to me," Enjolras cut in. "If you don't want to come with me, it's your choice. But at the very least, I believe it would be beneficial to exchange numbers," he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"Fine," she grumbled, feeling self-conscious as she took out her cheap, battered phone, a clear contrast to Enjolras' sleek, expensive iPhone. Once they had exchanged numbers, she looked him straight in the eye. "Enjolras–"

"I know, I'm going. But don't hesitate to call if you need me. I don't care what time it is, just call or text, alright?"

"Understood."

As he turned to leave, Éponine bit her lip. "Enjolras!"

He looked back at her.

"Thanks."

A smile crossed his features. "You're welcome, Éponine."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: To the guest reviewer who said "I don't think I can go past the fourth chapter tbh, your writing style is rather stilted… I really think you should work on making your dialogue more natural." I appreciate that you took the time to tell me your thoughts. I am too busy to go back and meticulously go over the previous chapters to edit any mistakes I may have made, but thank you for politely giving constructive criticism instead of being rude. I am very sorry you feel this way, as I don't want to turn a potential reader away just because of a writing style.**

**There's a good dash of the Brick in this chapter (though the fic itself is based on the film). The Corinthe wine shop on rue de la Chanvrerie, **_**not**_** the Café Musain on Place Saint-Michel, is the location of the barricade Victor Hugo described. The musical/film uses the Musain became it's more recognizable as a landmark and would be confusing if Les Amis met in one place and fought in another. Mme. Hucheloup (played by Katy Secombe in the film) is the lady at the Musain that gets kissed by all the barricade boys but Marius during **_**One Day More**_**. Even Enjolras. You know, that lady.**

**Speaking of the Brick, Matelote and Gibelotte are two serving maids working for Mme. Hucheloup in the Corinthe wine-shop. I decided to give this chapter another Hugo-esque flair and put them in. **

**I have made some slight revision to this chapter.**

**Thank you for all the reviews! **

Éponine arrived at the Corinthe restaurant for her evening shift: as she entered the staff break room to put on an apron, her employer came through the door. "Good evening, Éponine," Mme. Hucheloup said, eyes crinkling as she smiled. "We have a group of twelve coming in to the backroom. They asked you to serve them."

Éponine raised an eyebrow. "Any specific reason they wanted me?"

The motherly widow shrugged. "They'll be here at eight." Éponine knew Mme. Hucheloup was keeping something from her, but she decided to ignore it.

For the next three hours as she circulated the restaurant, waiting on various tables, Éponine mulled over the odd request, wondering who could have asked for her specifically. Glancing at the clock, she saw she only had a few minutes to prepare the back room; as she ensured the table was presentable, she heard the front door of the Corinthe open and loud voices carry throughout the building. Coming back into the main room, she looked down to tighten the ties on her apron as she crossed the space. When Éponine reached the group, she looked up.

"Éponine!" Marius said with a smile, Cosette holding his hand as Enjolras, Grantaire, and the rest of the group of Marius' friends came in behind them.

"Oh, um, hi," Éponine said, scrambling to say something. Paling, she turned away rapidly, grabbing a stack of menus haphazardly and nearly dropping some as her body moved without consulting her brain. "I'll show you to the table…" She avoided looking at the group, walking quickly to the back room as they followed.

"Hey, Éponine, sorry I forgot to tell you about the party," Marius said, "but since you work here…"

"You naturally assumed I'd be here," Éponine said bitterly, for once unable to hide her anger from him. It didn't help that Cosette was right there and Enjolras was watching her.

"Exactly," Marius said, completely oblivious to her less-than-pleased reaction. She watched as he pulled out a chair for Cosette; once they were seated side by side, he rested a hand on the blonde's knee. Éponine expected to feel sick at the affection he was showering on his fiancé, but she only felt anger.

She set menus in front of the group, refusing to look any of them in the eye. "I'll be your server tonight," she said, avoiding looking at Marius and Cosette and fighting to keep her tone neutral. "Can I get you drinks?"

She could feel a wave of pity from every person around the table – except Cosette and Marius, of course, who were too focused on each other to notice anyone else. They didn't feel sympathy for her just because she worked at the restaurant. It was because everyone but Marius knew of her feelings for him, and he had the nerve to bring Cosette with him while Éponine was working and unable to join their gathering. Musichetta gripped Joly's hand, and Courfeyrac exchanged with Grantaire. Enjolras appeared as if he wished to say something to Marius, but looked at her and only said, "I'll take water, please."

The rest ordered, their voices quiet. Éponine had been exposed to the group enough to know they were a loud, boisterous, opinionated circle of friends; now they were subdued and shifting awkwardly in their seats.

"I'll get your drinks," she said, forcing the words past her almost clenched teeth as Marius wrapped his arm around Cosette's waist.

The rest of the night could be described in one word – excruciating.

Whatever Marius though, just because Éponine worked in the Corinthe did not mean she could partake in the gathering. The restaurant was short staffed that night; Éponine and the two other waitresses, Matelote and Gibelotte, had their hands full manning multiple tables at a time. The only beneficial aspect of the distractions she had to deal with was that while serving another table, she had no time to think about who occupied the back room. But, as twelve people were waiting for her service at that particular table, she was forced to make frequent trips into the back room. She avoided talking to Marius and refused to speak to Cosette unless asked a direct question.

Éponine had never been so grateful for closing time. The group paid their bill and filed out, casting her pitying glances as she wiped a table down with more force than necessary. Marius and Cosette left together, their carefree laughter echoing in her ears.

Matelote stacked chairs, pausing to untie her apron. "Busy night," the redhead commented.

"Tell me about it," Éponine replied, stacking plates left on a table.

"I'm going to head home," Gibelotte said as she finished vacuuming, her soft voice barely carrying across the room. The three women exchanged farewells, and Gibelotte left. Éponine entered the kitchen, seeing Mme. Hucheloup locking up cabinets.

As Matelote went to the door to turn the sign hanging on the glass to proclaim _closed_, Éponine saw Enjolras come to the door from her vantage point in the kitchen. "Excuse me," he said. "I don't mean to intrude, but I left something in the back room. May I retrieve it?"

"Of course," Matelote said, her eyes following him with an appreciative gleam as he stepped past her, unaware of her look.

Éponine hurried to the back room, desperate to finish before he came in but not knowing why. She noticed his red jacket on the back of a chair, but left it as she reached for a plate. As she turned to place it on a tray, the door of the back room suddenly opened the moment she let her guard down. Startled, she dropped the plate; the porcelain hit the edge of the table and shattered when it struck the floor.

"Éponine! Are you alright?" Enjolras asked, coming forward.

Matelote and Mme. Hucheloup rushed into the room. "What happened?" Mme. Hucheloup demanded, worried.

"I dropped a plate," Éponine explained in a voice that was not as strong as she would have liked. "It was an accident. I'll clean it up." She knelt to clean the mess, reaching too quickly for a large jagged piece, and jerking her hand back as a sharp edge sliced her finger.

Enjolras knelt in front of her. "Éponine, let me help–"

"It's fine, Enjolras," she said as blood welled in the cut.

Unbeknownst to the pair, Mme. Hucheloup and Matelote exchanged a knowing glance as he took her hand gently in his. "I'll get the vacuum," Matelote said.

"I'll go find the First-Aid kit," Mme. Hucheloup added, and she and the red-haired waitress left the room.

Enjolras' blue eyes inspected Éponine's injury closely, and he looked up to meet her gaze. "Will you ever accept help, 'Ponine?"

"What did you call me?" she said abruptly.

"'Ponine," he repeated. "If you don't want me to call you that, I won't use it–"

"No, it's fine," she said, slightly embarrassed. "Only my closest friends call me that."

"I was under the assumption we were friends as well."

"Yeah, I guess," Éponine said, biting her lip. As they looked at each other in silence for a moment, she felt a strange urge to kiss him. If only she moved a few inches closer, their lips would meet…

She immediately caught herself, cursing herself for being so sentimental. She was not some weak, spineless schoolgirl mooning over a man – though, she admitted to herself, she had come dangerously close to that with Marius – and she couldn't afford to vulnerable. No matter who the man was, even if it was Enjolras, she couldn't let her guard down; she had learned her lesson with Marius.

Matelote and Mme. Hucheloup returned with the vacuum and the First-Aid kit, respectively. Éponine focused on dealing with her hand, then assisted Mme. Hucheloup, Matelote, and Enjolras in cleaning the shattered plate. Because of her clumsiness, both waitress and their employer had to spend extra time cleaning. Matelote went to the door. "See you tomorrow."

"See you," Éponine replied.

"Have a good night," the redhead said with a grin.

"You, too," Éponine said, slightly irritated. _First Musichetta, now Matelote. Why do they all assume I'm going home with Enjolras?_

Éponine deposited her apron in the staff break room and emerged into the main area when Enjolras was waiting, now wearing his crimson jacket. "I'm leaving, Mme. Hucheloup," she called

The widow came out of the kitchen. "Have a good night, Éponine."

"You, too." She shrugged on her coat, trying not to jostle her hand. "See you."

"Goodbye, Éponine, and to you as well, Enjolras."

"Thank you, madame," Enjolras said respectfully as he exited the restaurant with Éponine.

"I didn't know you knew Mme. Hucheloup," Éponine commented as they walked down the sidewalk together.

"My friends and I come to the Corinthe often," Enjolras said with a shrug.

"I think it's very kind of you to give her your business," she said. "Did you hear about her husband?"

"What happened?"

"They used to run the restaurant together," she said, stepping closer to Enjolras to avoid a bicyclist on the sidewalk. "But he died of cancer a coupe of years ago."

"I'll have to make sure to go to the Corinthe more often, then." When they passed a bus stop, Éponine stepped towards the structure. "Do you need a ride?" Enjolras said, features serious.

She shook her head. "I don't want a repeat of last time."

"Ensuring your safety is not an inconvenience–"

"If you come back, they will kill you," Éponine said bluntly. _The only way I can keep you alive is to keep you away_, she thought, but did not dare say the words aloud.

"Éponine, if that's a risk I need to take to guarantee your safety–"

"Don't worry about me," she cut in. "You're noble to a fault, Enjolras. Chivalry might win over some," she said swallowing hard. _Maybe even me_. "But you can't put yourself in danger to protect other people. You'll get yourself killed."

The bus pulled up, the doors creaking open. Enjolras took a step towards her, concern in his blue eyes. "Éponine–"

"I can't let you put your life on the line for me," Éponine said. _Because I'm not worth it._

She hurried onto the bus, ignoring Enjolras as he called her name once more.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Could Éponine possibly be getting over Marius? Wait and see…**

**I'm not terribly happy with this chapter, as I feel it's a bit too fluffy (but hopefully not OOC), but I need Éponine to feel she can rely on Enjolras for the next chapter to work. **

**If anyone has time, I would love to hear what you think of my Mosette (Marius/Cosette) one-shot, **_**ce sera bientôn votre tour**_**.**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic has broken the 100 reviews mark, my first story to do so! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, espeically Camberleigh Fauconbridge, who gave me some awesome reviews. My favorite was part of your review for chapter 7 - "_Enjolras would be a better defense than pepper spray." How true that is… (Although he'd probably end up giving such an in-depth speech to confuse them that a fight wouldn't actually occur)_" This made me laugh out loud. Thank you for telling me you like my Enjolras so much!**

**I made some slight revisions to Chapter 8, but nothing major. **

**I wrote three long chapters in a twelve-hour period and I'm brain dead, but here's the next chapter. The Pitié-Salpêtrière Hospital is a real hospital in Paris, and Princess Diana was treated there in 1997. **

* * *

Through the thick fog of sleep, Enjolras registered a noise on the edge of his hearing. Forcing himself to wake, he looked at the clock and saw it was three in the morning. Reaching out and picking up his vibrating phone, he read the name on the screen.

Éponine.

"Hello?" he said, sitting up in bed as the sheets pooled around his waist.

"Is this Enjolras?" said a woman who clearly wasn't Éponine.

"Yes. Who is speaking?" _You do realize it's three in the morning?_

"This is the Pitié-Salpêtrière Hospital. You are an emergency contact of Éponine Thénardier, correct?"

"I… yes." Why was he listed as an emergency contact and not Marius? He pushed the thought from his mind as the woman continued.

"_Mademoiselle_ Thénardier was admitted to the emergency room a few minutes ago. She was brutally assaulted and sustained severe injuries."

Enjolras was not naturally violent, but he planned to kill Montparnasse when he saw Éponine's boyfriend again.

"Was her attacker identified?" There was no doubt in his mind that Montparnasse has caused Éponine harm, but it never hurt to gather more information.

"A man was at the scene but escaped."

Definitely Montparnasse.

* * *

"Is Éponine Thénardier out of surgery yet? She was just admitted half an hour ago." Enjolras tried not sound impatient as he waited for the nurse behind the desk to reply.

She looked at her computer. "She's still in the emergency room."

"Do you know when she'll be out?"

The nurse shook her head. "Why don't you have a seat?" she said, gesturing to the waiting room behind Enjolras with a smile.

He thanked her and obeyed, running a hand through his hair. He should have gone with her after leaving the restaurant, he should have driven her home, escorted her, kept her away from Montparnasse, protected her, _something_…

But Éponine, being Éponine, always refused his help, and the knowledge of _there was nothing he could have really done_ did not sit well with Enjolras. It was in his nature to help others, to protect and defend those who could not do so for themselves. He couldn't force his assistance on Éponine, but this was not a trivial situation. Maybe he should have stepped in and taken her from Montparnasse even if she had protested. It would have been for her personal safety. But he knew she would not want to be seen as weak. She could take care of herself, and had proven the fact before. But clearly this situation had escalated too far, even for her…

_The past is the past_, he told himself firmly. _You can't change what happened before, but you can write today._

* * *

Éponine slowly opened her eyes. She saw a pristine hospital room, a thick, heavy curtain to her left dividing the space between herself and the other patient that she could not see. She looked down to view her thin frame clad in a simple hospital gown, stitches marking her skin. The sun was starting to rise through the window to her right, light beginning to chase away the darkness. She lifted a hand – a tube filled with crimson blood protruding from her skin – to adjust the oxygen mask that was pressing somewhat uncomfortably on her face.

She heard a movement, and looked up to see Enjolras.

They gazed at each other for a moment. Brown eyes met blue, and she lifted her hand from the oxygen mask to him. He stood from his chair in the corner and came to her side, taking her hand in his. They did not speak as he gently brushed his thumb over her knuckles; he sat on the edge of the hospital bed without a word.

For one of the first times in her entire life, Éponine felt safe.

* * *

The moment Grantaire, Joly, Courfeyrac, and the rest of the group heard Éponine had been hospitalized, they gave her the largest bouquet of flowers they could find. Musichetta brought her a box of chocolate that Éponine could not possibly eat so soon after surgery, but she appreciated the sentiment all the same. Marius and Cosette hand delivered both a get-well card with a long note from Marius about how much their friendship meant to him – a year earlier Éponine would have bristled at his viewing their "relationship" as mere friendship – as well as a wedding invitation. Cosette even went to far as to ask if she wanted them to push back the wedding date so she could sufficiently recover, but Éponine assured her not change anything. It might have been the large amount of painkillers in her bloodstream, but it almost didn't hurt when Marius and Cosette left hand in hand.

Enjolras rarely left Éponine's side, always careful to stay away from the subject of Montparnasse and the night of her attack. She was grateful for his tact, as she did not like to dwell on the thought of her boyfriend long, even in her private thoughts. But, after four days had gone by and her condition was pronounced stable, Enjolras apparently decided that was enough time for her to emotionally recover, and brought up the subject. She expected him to pump her for every detail – he _was_ studying to be a lawyer, after all – but his blue eyes held only genuine concern. He only spoke a few phrases, the string of words somewhat surprising her, coupled with his discretion.

"I will gladly offer my services as a lawyer in court if you decide to press charges," he said. "I take the bar exam on the thirty-first of July. We can begin the case in August if you wish."

"I'm not going to press charges," she finally said.

He waited for her to continue, and she went on, feeling uncomfortable under his gaze. "You wouldn't understand. In your safe rich world justice is served, but my life isn't like that. Fate deals you shit but you get up and keep going. You can't afford to dwell on the past, no matter how bad it is, or you'll miss what little good you have left." Enjolras' name appeared in her thoughts, but she pushed it aside as she continued. "I'm not like you. You can afford to try to fix your life, but I can't." Silence filled the room, and Éponine avoided Enjolras' eyes, embarrassed to reveal even that part of herself.

"I won't force that choice on you," Enjolras said after a beat of silence. "If you ever make that decision to do so, I will gladly help."

She nodded curtly.

Enjolras shifted in his seat, glancing out the window before meeting her gaze. "'Ponine," he began, but trailed off. The use of her nickname made her relax slightly. Only slightly. "I don't really know how to say this, but…" he began, running a hand through his hair, and she saw Enjolras, the man with a silver tongue, hesitate. "Are you ever tired of being strong?" he finally said. "I mean, do you ever wish that instead of relying on yourself, you could depend on someone else?"

She did not speak for a moment, mulling over his words. He had hit much too close to the truth for her liking, and she bit her lip.

"If I let myself fall, I would never get back up again," she said in a quiet voice, looking down at her hands folded in her lap.

There. She had said it.

Enjolras leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "But what if someone was there to help you stand again?"

She met his gaze. "Too many people have helped me up only to throw me back down again."

"Not everyone," he countered. "Musichetta hasn't. Marius hasn't – well, maybe he's a bad example, but he's never _intentionally_ hurt you. Grantaire, Combeferre, Joly, Courfeyrac, all of them, they haven't tried to upset you." He drew in a breath. "And though I'll admit I'm not perfect, I've done my best not to let you down."

"What do you mean, done your best? You haven't let me down," Éponine said, deciding to latch onto the safest topic.

"I didn't do enough to keep you safe," he replied, and she knew he was speak of the night Montparnasse had attacked her. "I should have been there, done something to keep him away from you–"

"It's not your fault, and it wasn't your problem–"

"That's no excuse–"

"Enjolras, _listen_ to me. There was nothing you could have done. What happened, happened. You don't need to feel as if you need to protect me."

"But even the strongest of us have to rely on others once in a while."

"If you're saying I'm weak–"

"I'm not. You are the strongest person I know. But let people in for once! I'm not looking to hurt you!"

They stared at each other as they both realized what he had implied. He wanted to be the one to pick up the pieces when she fell.

Enjolras stood, grabbing his coat. "It's getting late. Goodnight, Éponine."

He strode out of the room.

"Goodnight," she whispered after him.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Éponine finally opens up to Enjolras… aaand no. Don't worry, this isn't the end. There's a handful more chapters to go. I'm in the process of writing the final chapter right now. **

**Excuse me for self-promoting once more, but I would love to hear what you think of my Mosette (Marius/Cosette) one-shot, _ce sera bientôn votre tour_. **


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

After Éponine was discharged from the hospital, Musichetta let her recover at her apartment. Everyone agreed that it was too dangerous for Éponine to return to the apartment she had shared with Montparnasse, as her now-former boyfriend was still loose. She recovered at a steady pace with only minor setbacks; though the screws and metal plate in her hip from a fracture would never be removed and her right shoulder would never be able to rotate as far as it had before, her cracked rib healed fully.

The preparations for Marius and Cosette's wedding grew to a close. The church and reception hall were rented, the decorations arranged, and the bachelor and bachelorette parties planned. The disastrous night of Éponine's attack was far behind and everyone prayed for a period of tranquility.

* * *

Éponine unlocked the front door of Musichetta's apartment, arms laden with plastic bags filled with groceries. She opened the door and went inside, pushing it shut behind her with her good shoulder. She did not bother to lock it as she went further into the apartment, planning to secure it once she had set down the groceries on the counter.

That was her first mistake.

Éponine set the bags on the counter, wincing as her right shoulder was aggravated slightly. Her back to the front door, she felt her phone vibrate in the front left pocket of her jeans. Taking it in her hand, she read a text from Musichetta.

_Might be a few minutes late. Got held up at work._

Éponine put her phone in her back pocket on a whim and began to unpack the bags.

That whim might have saved her life.

She heard the door open and turned, expecting to see Musichetta, confusion marring her brow, but it fell away in an instant.

Montparnasse stepped into the apartment and shut the door, locking it behind him, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt inexplicable panic start to bloom in her chest, but pushed it aside. Éponine Thénardier did not _panic_. She held her ground as he slowly walked towards her.

"What are you doing here?" she finally said in a level tone.

"I came to see you," Montparnasse replied. "It's been a while."

"For good reason."

He stopped in front of her, reaching out a hand to her face, but she stepped back.

That was her second mistake.

"Don't touch me," she said in a strong voice.

He moved closer to her. "I can do whatever I want to you, woman," he said in a dangerous tone, towering over her.

"I'm not yours anymore."

"You're mine if I say you're mine," he said, and suddenly seized her by the arms. "Stop hiding from me. We're going. _Now_."

"Let go of me," she said, trying to wrench herself from his grasp.

"Don't tell me what to do," he snarled, shaking her roughly. Her phone in the back pocket of her jeans hit the side of the edge of the counter, and, in what can only be described as a miracle, she pocket dialed Enjolras, though she did not realized her phone was working. Éponine suddenly twisted to remove herself from his grasp; her elbow hit a glass canister and it fell from the counter, the glass shattering on the floor.

* * *

Enjolras stepped from his car as Musichetta parked beside him. She exited her vehicle with a smile. "What are you doing here?" she asked good-naturedly.

"I have a book for Éponine," he replied. "She told me she isn't really into fashion magazines."

Musichetta laughed. "I guess that's my fault. I don't have too many books lying around."

Enjolras' phone began to vibrate. Éponine's name came up on the screen, and he answered the call. "Hello?"

No response.

"Hello? Éponine?"

"Did she call you?" Musichetta inquired, to which Enjolras nodded. He stilled as he heard glass breaking.

"Do you know where Éponine is right now?" he asked Musichetta.

"I assume she's in the apartment."

He heard Éponine shout, and a rough voice that he had prayed he would never hear again.

"He's in there with her."

Enjolras sprinted up the stairs, Musichetta following. "I'll get Éponine!" he said over his shoulder. "Call the police!"

He went to the door of Musichetta's apartment, the blonde woman on his heels as she frantically dialed her phone. He tried the door handle and Musichetta shoved a key into his hand as she waited for the police to answer her call. "Stay out here," Enjolras instructed as he unlocked and threw open the door as a thud was heard inside the apartment.

Montparnasse was physically dragging Éponine towards the door as she fought like a wildcat. "Let go of her," Enjolras ordered immediately in an authoritative tone that would have terrified a lesser man.

Montparnasse laughed.

"You had your fun with her. Now I'm taking her back where she belongs."

Sirens were heard as Enjolras punched Montparnasse.

The police came in and dragged Enjolras and Montparnasse apart. The latter was arrested for attempted murder, assault, and abuse, handcuffed, and dragged into the back of a police cruiser.

Enjolras, blood oozing from his split lip, looked out the door to see Musichetta with an arm around Éponine as a tremor ran through the dark-haired woman's form. Enjolras could see marks on her arms as he approached the two women. Musichetta let go of Éponine and turned her so she could see Enjolras, and no one moved for a moment. Then Éponine stepped forward and Enjolras pulled her into an embrace.

He ran a hand gently over her dark hair as she began to shake, her breath starting to hitch. He murmured soothing words neither would remember later as she buried her face in his chest. He tilted her chin up with a gentle finger under her jaw and saw her eyes filling with tears. Not saying a word, he led her to the couch and sat them down, cradling her to his chest as she began to cry. Musichetta slipped out the door.

Éponine did not cry for long. She leaned back, wiping her eyes, but froze as she felt Enjolras' lips brush her forehead. She looked up at him in surprise, and he immediately began to apologize. "'Ponine, I'm sorry, I didn't mean–"

"Don't apologize," she said with a slight smile. They looked at each other for a moment, and he took her hands in his.

"'Ponine," he began, "I know you don't think you need me, but…" He swallowed hard. "Please let me take care of you. Let me protect you. Let me be the place that you hide."

When she did not reply for a moment, he continued. "I'm not asking you to be my girlfriend. I just want to take care of you. That's all." His blue gaze locked with hers, anxiously waiting for her reply.

"You will be the place that I hide."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, it's a bit cliché that Montparnasse came back, but, think about it. Do you think he would really leave Éponine alone? It's Montparnasse we're talking about here. **

"**Let me be the place that you hide" is a quote from the song **_**Run Away With Me **_**from **_**The Unauthorized Autobiography of Samantha Brown**_**. Aaron Tveit sang this song in a concert venue in 2008, and I highly suggest you look it up. This song will turn you into a complete hopeless romantic. **


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you watched the Les Mis cast performance of part of **_**Suddenly**_**/**_**One Day More**_** at the 2013 Oscars, you will understand the significance of the attire in this chapter.**

**This chapter features the lyrics of **_**A Thousand Years**_** by Christina Perri, but is not a songfic. Would it technically be called a songchapter? **

* * *

Éponine gazed at herself in the full-length mirror in Musichetta's bathroom. A long, dark blue dress clung to her slender frame, a slit running up the side of the garment to reach a gather in the fabric adorned with a faux diamond. A year ago she might have worn something more revealing, but the neckline of this dress came to her collarbone with long sleeves reaching her wrists; her dark hair was left to hang naturally in slight waves around her face, her makeup subtle, and brown platform shoes giving some extra height.

A knock sounded on the front door, and Éponine heard Musichetta answer it. Enjolras' voice carried through the apartment, and Musichetta called out, "Éponine! Enjolras and Joly are here!"

Éponine stepped into the main room of the apartment and gazed at Enjolras for a moment. He wore an elegant black suit, a red handkerchief folded in the left breast pocket, and a smile crossed his lips. "You look beautiful," he said simply, and she smiled at him.

"Indeed," Joly said, and Éponine looked to Enjolras' right to see Musichetta's boyfriend. "You might even upstage the bride."

"You two don't look too bad yourselves," she said, trying to hide her embarrassment at both men's praise. She made eye contact with Enjolras. "The red is a nice touch," she said with a grin. "Red and black look good on you."

"I… thank you," Enjolras said, and Éponine laughed lightly.

"If we don't head out now, we might be late," Musichetta said.

"Of course." Enjolras opened the door wider and stepped aside to let the rest of the group pass over the threshold. Éponine's hand brushed against Enjolras' and she gave him a glance, a fleeting smile on her lips, and continued on.

* * *

They sat near the front of the church with the rest of the group of Marius and Enjolras' friends. Éponine had almost sat in the back, but Enjolras had encouraged her to sit with the rest, but she still sat on the end of the pew next to the aisle. The church was packed, and Enjolras was forced to sit very close to Éponine, his pant-clad leg brushing against the bare skin of her thigh where the slit of her dress fell open.

She found she didn't mind.

Marius came into the sanctuary and went to speak to the pastor at the altar, his best man Courfeyrac at his side, and the latter began flirting with Cosette's maid of honor. Éponine watched Marius and searched herself, but did not find the usual ache in her chest at the sight of him.

Once all the guests were seated, everyone involved in the ceremony went down the aisle, Marius' ten-year-old cousin being the ring bearer. Then the flower girls came out, the wedding march began to play, the guests stood, and the bride entered.

Cosette appeared on Marius' grandfather's arm, her face covered in a veil. Éponine admitted to herself that the blonde did in fact look quite radiant, and wondered why Cosette's father wasn't walking her down the aisle. She recalled someone saying that Cosette's father had been called away for some reason and was unable to attend the wedding. Éponine let the thought go as Gillenormand placed Cosette's hands on top of Marius', and the bride and groom moved to stand before the pastor.

Éponine expected herself to mourn the loss of Marius.

But as she watched them exchange vows and rings, her heart was not heavy with sorrow at her missed chance. She was surprised that she didn't even imagine herself standing in Cosette's place as Marius kissed his bride. She laughed along with the rest as Grantaire wolf-whistled when the couple broke apart, and even smiled as the newly wed husband and wife went back down the aisle together.

* * *

Éponine rode with Enjolras to the reception. They went into the building together, and he guided her with a gentle hand on her elbow. They sat at the same table and ate in relative silence, their knees brushing occasionally. After the enormous cake was cut, the dance floor was cleared and music began to play. Marius led Cosette by the hand and began dancing with her, and they were followed by other couples; Éponine smiled as she saw Courfeyrac dancing with Cosette's maid of honor.

Éponine was content to sit and watch, but as the first song ended and another began, Enjolras caught Éponine's eye. "Would you care to dance?"

She almost declined, but nodded and stood, taking Enjolras' hand. "I must warn you, I won't be able to do more than shuffle with my hip. If you want fancy moves, I suggest you get another partner."

He brought her to a relatively empty, private corner of the dance floor. "I don't have much talent for dance. I'll shuffle with you."

Éponine laughed as she put her hands on Enjolras' upper arms, feeling the toned muscle under his suit jacket; he rested his hands lightly on her waist. She recognized the song as _A Thousand Years_ by Christina Perri; she remembered Marius saying once that Cosette listened to the artist constantly. Éponine tried to ignore the fact that the song had been featured in one of the _Twilight_ films and moved closer to Enjolras as Christina Perri's voice filled the room.

_Heart beats fast_

_Colors and promises_

_How to be brave?_

_How can I love when I'm afraid to fall?_

Éponine met Enjolras' gaze, both recalling her revelation at the hospital and his response. _"__If I let myself fall, I would never get back up again." "But what if someone was there to help you stand again?"_

The song continued.

_But watching you stand alone?_

_All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow_

_One step closer_

Éponine leaned into Enjolras, breathing in his scent of old books and mint and _him_; he moved his hands to rest on her hips as the chorus began.

_I have died everyday waiting for you_

_Darling don't be afraid I have loved you_

_For a thousand years_

_I'll love you for a thousand more_

Éponine knew she was on the cusp of something real, something serious, something lasting with Enjolras. She knew she should take opportunity but felt as if she were about to do a trust fall. She would let herself fall in a relationship and hoped that someone would catch her, but she had been dropped one too many times.

Her heart argued that Enjolras would catch her every single time.

_Time stands still_

_Beauty in all she is_

_I will be brave_

_I will not let anything take away_

_What's standing in front of me_

_Every breath_

_Every hour has come to this_

_One step closer_

Enjolras felt Éponine rest her head on his chest, turning so her cheek was pressed against his white dress shirt, her fingers curling into his jacket. He recalled the moment when he though he might lose her that night at the hospital, and as anger rose in his chest at the memory of Montparnasse harming her so severely, he unconsciously tightened his grip on Éponine's hips but loosened his hold once he realized what he was doing.

Enjolras knew she was independent, but she had suffered so much already; if he could have taken all her pain on himself, he would have done so without a moment's hesitation. He forced himself to admit that, yes, he, the man people said was made of marble, did care for this girl. She gave him a purpose and a goal.

He had her.

_I have died everyday waiting for you_

_Darling don't be afraid I have loved you_

_For a thousand years_

_I'll love you for a thousand more_

_And all along I believed I would find you_

_Time has brought your heart to me_

_I have loved you for a thousand years_

_I'll love you for a thousand more_

Enjolras' focus had been graduating and college for so long hat he had ignored practically every member of the fairer sex, viewing them as distractions that only got in the way. But Éponine had effectively shattered that notion by charging straight into his life and turning it upside down.

_One step closer_

_One step closer_

He rested his chin on the top of her dark hair and breathed in her scent of wildflowers and cinnamon and _her_.

_I have died everyday waiting for you_

_Darling don't be afraid I have loved you for a thousand years_

_I'll love you for a thousand more_

_And all along I believed I would find you_

_Time has brought your heart to me_

_I have loved you for a thousand years_

_I'll love you for a thousand more_

The song ended, the violins fading away, and Enjolras and Éponine stepped apart.

* * *

Éponine did a double take.

Her parents, dressed in garish, outlandish outfits, had somehow slipped uninvited into the reception and stood in a corner, talking in low voices. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marius leave Cosette's side, his jaw set; as he approached her parents, Éponine saw sinister gleams in their eyes. Anger blossomed in her chest and she stood, pushing her chair back abruptly.

"Éponine?"

She saw Enjolras looking up at her. "My parents are here," she explained.

"I take it that's not what you want?" He stood, and she realized belatedly that he had never met her parents. She wasn't eager to change that fact.

"They're criminals, felons, thieves, whatever you can think of, it describes them," she said, "and they're probably robbing Marius blind as we speak."

Enjolras followed Éponine as she crossed the room to her parents standing with Marius. As she approached, they heard her father speak. "I'll tell you where's he's gone when you pay–"

"Leave him alone," Éponine snapped, stepping forward.

"Oh, _ma chérie_," her mother said with a false smile, "it's been so long since we've seen you–"

"What do you want?" Éponine interrupted.

Her father's gaze shifted to Enjolras, and he extended a hand. "I don't think we've met. I'm Thenard, and this is my wife–"

"_Thénardier_," Éponine corrected through gritted teeth. "Leave him out of this. Why the hell are you here?"

"We were giving the groom here some valuable information about his bride's father," Thénardier said smoothly, eyeing Cosette across the room. "Quite the little nun, ain't she?" he said suggestively.

Marius punched him. Thénardier fell against the buffet table, casing a loud clatter as he cried out in shock, and all attention in the room was focused on Marius as he grabbed the man by the front of his rented suit. "Where is he?"

"The convent…"

Marius looked up at a shocked waiter as he released Thénardier, letting Éponine's father fall to the floor unceremoniously. "Could you call security?" he asked, straightening. The waiter hurried out of the room, and Marius turned to look over the crowd. "Cosette!"

"What are you _doing_?" she asked, confused and indignant as she came to his side.

He took her by the hand and led her to the door. "I know where your father is."

* * *

"Thanks for driving me home," Éponine said as she stood with Enjolras at the front door of Musichetta's apartment. "Sorry you had to see all that."

He shrugged. "Marius handled it."

"But you had see even more of my background, where I came from–"

"I'm not going to judge you based on your parents," Enjolras said firmly. "Your background does not affect how I feel about you."

She brushed her hair over her shoulder. "I think it's time we talked about that." She met his blue gaze. "What exactly do want out of… whatever we have between us?"

"I'm not going to force you into anything. Whatever you want, I will do – within reason, of course."

She smiled. "So I'm free tomorrow. How about you pick me up at ten?"

He looked at her for a moment. "For a date?"

She almost said something sarcastic, but nodded. "It doesn't have to be lunch. We can go out for coffee. Or we could just talk. Whatever you want."

"What about the Café Musain?"

Her smile widened. He caught on quickly, even though she was ninety-nine percent positive he had never arranged a date before. "I'd like that," she said, and stepped forward.

The kiss was brief, her lips brushing his for only a moment. She didn't want to take things too quickly with him, as she had in other relationships with other men. This could turn into a lifetime, and she didn't want to ruin it by risking something they would regret.

"Goodnight, Enjolras," she said, stepping back and unlocking the door.

"Goodnight, 'Ponine."

She smiled at the nickname and went inside.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope everyone caught the reference to what Aaron wore at the Oscars, known on Tumblr as "the red pocket square." **

"**Quite the little nun, ain't she?" is a line that was originally going to be added into the film to be said by Thénardier about Cosette right before Marius punches him, but was removed during editing. I really wish they had left it in, because it gives Marius more of a reason to punch Thénardier more than "I'm defending an ex-con I barely know only because I married his daughter." **

**If anyone has the 2010 UK tour recording of Les Mis with Katie Hall as Cosette and Gareth Gates as Marius (one of my favorite Mosette couples ever), if you listen to the end of the wedding chorale scene, Katie and Gareth adlibbed a bit before running offstage. In the recording, Katie did actually say the line, "What are you doing?" I loved their little addition, and decided to attempt to throw it in here. It didn't turn out exactly the way I wanted, but it's there if anyone caught it. **

**We've almost reached the end of **_**The Coffee Shop**_**. One chapter more, another plot twist, another cliffhanger… This soon-to-end road to the finale… These readers who have stayed with this will hopefully review again… One chapter more… **


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: According to Wikipedia, in the unofficial language of flowers, purple lilacs are the "first emotion of love."**

* * *

Enjolras was nervous. And he was _never_ nervous.

He stood outside Musichetta's apartment and knocked, running a hand through his hair as he waited. When the door opened, he put his other hand holding the object in his grasp behind his back.

Éponine stood in the doorway. Her hair was pulled back, and she wore a white sundress, the skirt loose around her body and falling slightly past her knees. A smile, the most genuine he had ever seen in the entire time he had known her, grew on her lips at the sight of him, eyes lighting up as she spoke.

"You're early," she said.

"I didn't want to keep you waiting." He moved the hand behind his back and held out the small but tasteful bouquet of purple lilacs to her. "For you."

Her smile grew as she accepted the flowers, lifting them to her face to breathe in the scent. "Thank you," she said, meeting his eyes over the small purple blossoms.

"They were the last the florist had," he said. "Otherwise I would have brought you more."

"These are beautiful, Enjolras," she assured him. "Thank you. I should probably put them in water. Would you like to come in?"

He nodded and followed her into the apartment as she went to the kitchen. Taking a vase from a cupboard, she began filling it with water as he said, "Where's Musichetta?"

"She's out with Joly," Éponine said idly, placing the lilacs in the vase and setting it on the windowsill in a beam of sunlight. "You know," she said as they went to the door, "I'm glad you got lilacs. Most guys – well, only a few of the guys I've been with, as it's rare for me to get to the 'flower stage' – would get roses, but they're terribly cliché. Now that I think about it," she said as they exited the apartment, "lilacs are probably my favorite flower. They're not what you'd expect, but they're different, and equally as beautiful as roses." As she locked the front door behind them, she glanced at Enjolras with an embarrassed smile. "Sorry for rambling - and about _flowers_, of all things…"

"Don't apologize," he interjected. "You have the right to discuss whatever topic you choose. Others may not have respected your opinion in the past, but I want you to know that I value your thoughts. Speak on whichever subject you wish, and I will always listen."

"Speaking of various… topics," Éponine said. "We might as well address this now, as we may or may not start dating." She bit her lip and hesitated for a split second.

Enjolras could count on one hand the times he had seen Éponine hesitate.

"Marius."

He watched her, wordlessly waiting for her to expound, and she continued. "You probably think I'm still in love with him, even though he's married." She ran a hand through her hair and met his gaze. Enjolras gave her a careful smile as encouragement to continue.

"I guess I was more in love with the… _idea_ of him than really him. It wasn't even love, really. I was obsessed with him. I once counted all his freckles. All of them." She flushed, an action Enjolras had never seen on her features. "Why the hell am I telling you this… Look, if you want to leave and run from the crazy girl, feel free."

"I'm not going anywhere," Enjolras said, putting his hands in his pockets and waiting for her to continue.

She actually looked _surprised_ he wasn't running for the hills, but went on. "But at his wedding, and after at the reception, I just felt… oh, I don't know, _empty_. No, that's not the right word. I felt nothing at all, really. I wasn't jealous or hurt or angry. I just watched him like I would if I watching some random person get married. There wasn't the _connection_ I had with Marius. Does that make sense?"

Enjolras nodded, careful to keep his expression neutral.

"So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, if you and I start… _dating_, or whatever we do, Marius isn't going to be hanging over us. I'll be honest," she said, looking Enjolras in the eye, "I'm not going to forget about him, but I won't picture him in your place. I just wanted to clear that up. What I felt for him is in the past, but he doesn't hold my future. Great, now I sound like a poet…"

Enjolras smiled. "I think Jehan would be mildly offended you believe sounding like a poet isn't desirable." He grew more serious. "Thank you for sharing this with me. You didn't have to open up, but I'm grateful you feel comfortable around me to do so."

She gave him a dimpled half-smile.

* * *

They entered the Café Musain, standing together in line in front of the counter. Éponine slipped her hand into Enjolras' as they stepped forward to order. With his black coffee and her green tea in hand, they stepped together to an empty table in the middle of the room. "So, how's studying going?" Éponine began, trying to combat the dreaded awkward silence before it set in.

"There's a lot to learn, but it's to be expected," Enjolras replied. "How's work?"

She smiled. "Matelote keeps bringing you up," she said with a laugh. "When I tell her we went on a date, she'll never stop talking about us." She took a drink of her tea. "So, we might as well dive right in. Are we an 'us'? Are we going to continue this? Is one date going to turn into more?"

"If that's what you want," Enjolras said. "I don't want to pressure you into anything."

She set down her cup on the table, running a fingertip lightly over the rim. "I want to take things slow," Éponine said carefully. "Most of the relationships I've had – basically all – I've gone home with the guy on the first date. But this…" She sighed, trying to formulate her thoughts. "This is different. You're different. I don't want to rush into something we'll regret. I don't want to sound needy or controlling, but I don't view us as something casual." She met his gaze, looking for judgment or frustration or carnal desire, but she was only met with kindness and respect.

She truly did not deserve this man.

He leaned forward. "I agree wholeheartedly. I respect and admire you too much to see you as a mere fling. If this is what you want, I would like to keep going down this path." He ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, not to get you in my bed or anything, but keep dating. If that makes sense."

She smiled, amused by his attempt to recover, and nodded.

* * *

After the date was over and they stood before the door of Musichetta's apartment, she asked, "Do you want to have sex?"

He stared at her in confusion and astonishment. "I… I beg your pardon?"

"I said, do you want to have–"

"I heard what you said," he interjected quickly, and Éponine smiled. "I, uh, well, eventually, but – This is coming out completely wrong…"

Éponine laughed, unable to help herself. "I've never seen you tongue-tied before."

He flushed. _Another first_, she thought as he tried to gather himself. "Here's what I think about the… _physical_ aspect of a relationship… our relationship. I would say yes, I would… _like_ that— but not right now," he said quickly, looking as if he was worried about offending her. "From what you've told me about your other relationships, the men you have gone out with have used you for one thing and one thing only. But I don't want to use you. I respect you. I want to treat you differently, better, than how you've been treated before. And I don't want to be intimate with you until a wedding night."

They both stared at each other as the implications of his words hung in the air between them.

"If we get that far, that is," he added quickly. "If you want that."

"Do you want to get married?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "May I be honest?"

"By all means." She found herself waiting anxiously for his reply.

He took her hands in his. "There is no one else I would rather spend the rest of my life with than you."

Éponine's heart seemed to stop for a moment, and then the organ began hammering in her chest. "Really?"

"Yes," he said with a smile that made her heart pound and her smile grow even wider.

"You're not joking?"

"Why on earth would I joke about this?" he said, almost incredulous that she couldn't believe him.

"I mean–" She could barely form a coherent sentence. "But why? Why me? Out of all the women in the world, why me?"

"Because you aren't afraid to say what you think. No one else would have been able to survive what you've gone through, let alone get back up and keep going. You're an incredibly strong person. I respect you. I admire you." He drew in a breath. "And… I think I might even be a little bit in love with you." He searched her face, trying to gauge her reaction.

Éponine felt her throat constrict. No one had _ever_ told they loved her – not her parents, not her siblings, not any of her friends, not Marius, not one of the men she had ever dated. And here was this charismatic, handsome, protective, wonderful man saying that he might be in love with her. She felt as if she wanted to cry, but, refusing to let herself do so, she leaned forward and did the next option her heart told her to do.

This kiss was different than the first. The one after Marius and Cosette's wedding had been brief and light, but this was sweet and gentle and lasted longer. She broke contact and stepped back, her cheeks flushed and eyes shining with happiness.

"Did you know, I think I might be a little bit in love with you, too."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: And we have reached the end of _The Coffee Shop_.** **Thank you to everyone who has stayed with this story for the entire journey, and thank you to the amazing pennylanes (epjolras, formerly electrum-whip, on Tumblr) for allowing me to write this story. Everyone's support has been incredible and I truly appreciate it. I apparently have issues with finishing multi-chapters (I discontinued at least four stories; lame, I know), but I managed to complete this one. _The Coffee Shop_ is my first story to break one hundred reviews, and I am proud of it. **

**I have a sequel/epilogue coming up to follow _The Coffee Shop_; it will not be a multi-chapter, only a one-shot, and will not be expanded past a singular chapter. I also have another Enjonine (with a side of Mosette) in the works, something a bit more lighthearted than this story, but it might be a while before I upload it; don't expect it tomorrow. I am genuinely grateful for everyone's encouragement, and I hope to see you all soon!**

**FIN**


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